This haze
like a beautiful maze
has been staring
might be caring
for why I am sleeping
and not keeping
the promises I made
turned them as facades
but is it too late?
or maybe is it the fate
I ask and collapse
for all dreams and the gaps
for one more time
alas ! a dozing sigh
reality defeated again
and nothing to gain
or maybe we can?
maybe not too.
You can easily write
about the love you feel,
the pain you endure,
of fantasies that immerses you
for hour and hours
about the beasts that scare you,
or a war you never took part in
or the plague that took over the world
and the the aftermath
but even after writing all this,
if while trying to write
about yourself and your life
mirroring your own thoughts,
if words fail to come out,
then you have a long way to go,
a lot to write,
and think about.
The most complex jigsaw
is the heart beating within us.
every piece of it is built of
the people around us
it holds their memories,
their faces
and maybe a part of their
soul.
they complete the puzzle
but everything has to fit,
for this puzzle to
work,
for the heart to beat,
for us to remain sane.
but it almost never happens
we only keep drifting
looking for pieces to fit within
in a hope to be complete
and that is why it is the most complex
jigsaw puzzle every made.
Would you ever write
if no one ever could read your work?
how many books would you finish?
how many stories you would conjure?
if they die with you
you ask me my passion
well here it is
to write,
but reading
that is your part
not mine
you can make me immortal
or just flesh waiting to taste death.
Writings to Heaven 